Princess
by Iellix
Summary: She is the Princess, whether he likes it or not. How could this possibly feel to a man of such humble origins? Glitch/DG oneshot.


I wanted to write something kind of fluffy for Tin Man, so I took a break from my WIP chaptered fic to write this. It's my first_completed_ Tin Man story, so I hope you all like it.

Summary: Glitch has to feel _something_ about DG being the Princess—mustn't he?

Disclaimer: I don't make any claim to ownership of Tin Man or the characters therein. As much as I'd like a Glitch of my very own.

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He couldn't stand it when they called her Princess. It was silly, really, because that's what she was. It was her birth rite, after all. She was born into the life of palaces, of grand balls, tiaras and heirloom jewels, fine silk dresses, privilege, wealth, a life of luxury, royalty. She was the top of the Outer Zone society.

And yet he _hated_ hearing other people call her Princess. He never even called her that himself. It served as a constant reminder to him, reiterating to him just how far out of his reach she was. She was the Princess, in line for the throne to the Outer Zone, and he was the former advisor to the Queen—a man of humble origins and greatness long past. Men of higher rank, of noble birth, and far more deserving of her would be throwing themselves at her feet. They would be smarter than him, younger and stronger than him, more handsome—in every possible way better than him.

That's what the title of Princess made him think.

Which he knew, in his newly re-established brain, was ridiculous. She loved him, and he knew it. Otherwise she wouldn't put up with his babblings on science and inventions, with his odd quirks and hair-curling little habits—such as compulsively doing everything in fives and alphabetizing his wardrobe. She spent more time with him than with almost anybody else. They'd sneak off together on horseback and not return to the palace until evening. Those tender smiles and soft touches were for him, and only him.

She never acted like the Princess with him—then she was just DG. She could relax and be herself, without worrying about proper etiquette and how the slightest little misstep could irreparably damage relationships with nobility and foreign dignitaries. The same things could be said of him, as well. With her, he didn't have to assume the role of the Queen's retired Head Advisor, didn't have to act like the man he once was but could never be again.

He could just laugh, tell silly jokes, be completely at ease, unbutton the high collar on his coat—he could be Glitch, instead of Ambrose. Which, truly, he liked better, anyway.

And she could tuck her skirts up and bare her legs, climb trees, race on horseback, or spend hours drawing. He could still see her, sitting out in the garden with her skirt tucked up into itself, sketchbook balanced on her legs, her tongue sticking out the tiniest bit from the corner of her mouth, concentrating so very hard. She'd looked up at him and smiled; there was a little smudge of charcoal across the bridge of her nose. He'd never seen anything so lovely in all his life.

They could be themselves. She didn't call him Ambrose. He didn't call her Princess. They were friends, they were confidants.

They were lovers.

Most nights he would come back from his study and retire to his rooms to find her there, waiting for him. She'd be sitting in his bed and wearing a cheeky, most un-Princess-like smile and not much else. They were seldom asleep much before three in the morning those nights—but it was well worth it. Sometimes he'd come back to his rooms very late at night and she would be there, already fast asleep. He could never bring himself to wake her, so he'd very, very gingerly settle into bed next to her, cuddle her close, and fall asleep himself. Together, comfortable. Happy.

Outer Zone royal families were notorious for _not_ arranging marriages for their daughters; DG would be able to marry anybody she liked, a prospect which he found both relieving and worrisome. On the one hand, his lack of aristocratic blood didn't automatically disqualify him from marrying her. On the other, what was to say that she wouldn't grow tired with an old man like him? He was nearly forty—old enough to be her father, provided he'd reproduced at seventeen. Surely a beautiful young woman like DG would want to find someone her own age.

Because she could, if she wanted to.

But she always assured him, she would never want another man because she had him. The men her own age she called "little boys," and said that they were all too stupid and immature, they thought with their penises. She _loved_ him. He was all she would ever need, and let anybody who made any comments about their age difference deal with her personally. She'd set them right, or turn them into toads.

Their relationship was as if they had known each other their entire lives, as if no vast age gap existed between them. He never felt so in-tune with another person as he did with her. She matched him. They fit together perfectly, danced to the same rhythm, one that nobody else could hear. She could make him believe—even though he knew it wasn't true—that he was the smartest man in the OZ. He could make her laugh when she began to take the world too seriously.

That's just how it was between them. Even as the closest advisor to the Queen, he always thought of her as a monarch first and person second. The fact that DG was the Princess sometimes didn't occur to him for days at a time, until he heard someone call her by that name, and he would remember just how far out of his league she was. Despite her frequent reassurance that none of this mattered to her, that she didn't care what anybody else thought… something about hearing her title made him worry.

And she always knew that.

So then, inevitably, when he'd find his way to his rooms after worrying and doubting all day, she would already be there waiting for him, grinning wickedly.

Some men called their sweethearts "Princess," to make them feel special, to remind the ladies that they meant so much to them. With Glitch it was just the opposite—he never referred to her as the Princess. He always called her by her name, to remind both of them what she was—a woman, a person. Not a figurehead or a political power or royalty.

She wasn't the Princess… not to him. To him, she was just DG. She was the girl he travelled with on the old Brick Route, who helped him and encouraged him. The girl he fell hopelessly and devotedly in love with.

He couldn't stand it when other people called her Princess. It always made him remember just who and what she was. When she wasn't around him, she was the Princess. A woman of high standing and royal blood.

As DG he could love her freely.

As the Princess of the Outer Zone, she would always be out of his reach.

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The End. I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are nice, but not required. I'm thinking of also writing a companion piece to this, with DG thinking about Glitch vs. Ambrose.

Until next time—_au revoir!_


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